


Entreat Me Not To Leave Thee

by ShowMeAHero



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Badass Cecil yo, Established Relationship, Hurt!Carlos, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Violence, M/M, Powerful Cecil, Strexcorp, Vengeful!Cecil, in which carlos is presumed dead and cecil rips shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 14:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1782070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil receives a letter from StrexCorp, informing him that they have located and arrested Carlos. Cecil does what needs to be done to get Carlos back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entreat Me Not To Leave Thee

**Author's Note:**

> This almost went a very, very different way.
> 
> Title taken from the Bible, but I actually read it in ['Observations'](http://anon-j-anon.livejournal.com/30674.html), which is one of my favorite fics ever.
> 
> "Entreat me not to leave thee, and to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God; where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried; the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me."

“Swallow the flies that buzz around your skull,” Cecil said into the microphone, shuffling the papers on his desk around. He leaned back in his chair, smiling when a beam of bright desert sunlight fell on his face. “This has been a message from your friends at Red Lobster.”

The newest intern knocked lightly on his door and stuck his head in, grinning. His dark hair swung in around his head. “Intern Isaac has just popped in to say hello.”

“I actually have a message, just came for you,” Isaac whispered, handing a folded envelope to Cecil. Cecil hummed thoughtfully as he took it, and Isaac vanished, the door to the studio clicking shut behind him.

“Intern Isaac has delivered an envelope to me,” Cecil informed his listeners, unfolding it and reading the front. “There is no return address, listeners. It’s a _surprise_!” Cecil tore open the edge of the envelope and slid out the piece of paper inside. He unfolded that, as well, and began reading aloud. “Dear Cecil Palmer, we are writing to inform you that we have… discovered a door at the house that does not exist. When we opened the door, we found…” Cecil stopped, reading the rest of the letter himself before clearing his throat and continuing. He motioned through the glass window to Isaac, who frowned, but came back into the studio anyways.

“We found,” Cecil continued, “our missing scientist. We thought it prudent that you announce to your listeners that this sixth scientist has been arrested and is in our custody.” Cecil hesitated, then crumpled the paper in his fist and tossed it into the wastepaper basket. “Intern Isaac will finish tonight’s show, listeners. My apologies.” Cecil stood from the desk, his chair rolling backwards until it hit the opposite wall. Isaac gathered up the papers, took the headphones Cecil passed off, and started reading the next announcement while hooking a foot around the chair leg and pulling it back over.

Cecil stormed out of the studio and out of the building to his car, ignoring the black clouds darkening the sky above his head. A rumble of thunder sounded directly overhead, nearly shaking the ground, and a bolt of lightning struck a tree to his immediate left as he climbed into his convertible, disregarding the rain that suddenly began cascading down from the sky. He drove directly to StrexCorp’s headquarters, his hair plastered to his skull with the rain, his clothes clinging wetly to his skin. He blew through every stop sign and red light, fleetingly glad for the five stamps on his Alert Citizen Card.

He parked across three spaces in StrexCorp’s parking lot, threw the door open, and left his car there, throwing the front door open and storming inside. The glass door shattered behind him, and the glass shards crunched under his shoes. He stopped at the secretary’s desk, and the woman who looked up at him jumped back.

“Cecil, I-”

“Where are you keeping him?” Cecil demanded. The woman glanced over her shoulder, and Cecil slammed his palms down on the desk, knocking over a pencil cup. “ _Where is he?_ ”

“Mr. Palmer, I don’t-”

“Fine,” Cecil snarled. He left the desk, throwing open the doors to the offices and kicking open each door as he went down, looking inside for a brief moment before continuing. The wind outside blew against the windows, the rain pelting the glass and the walls on the one-floor facility. When he reached the end of the hallway, and still had not found Carlos, he threw his fist through the glass, shattering the door. As Cecil stepped inside, the man at the desk lurched to his feet.

“Who let you in here?” the man asked loudly. Cecil threw the windows open, and rain pelted the room from all three sides. The man started at him, bewildered. “What the hell?”

“Where is he?” Cecil crossed to the man, grabbing him by the lapels of his pressed suit and throwing him up against the wall. A painting hanging on the wall trembled and fell to the ground, the frame cracking.

“He’s in our custody,” the man spat, and Cecil dragged him forward, then threw him back again, the man’s head colliding sharply with the wall.

“Reconsider your answer when I ask again,” Cecil growled near the man’s ear. Lightning touched down outside. “I _tolerated_ everything you’ve done so far. This town can handle itself, and it can fight back against you. But _this_ … This is too far. So, I’m going to ask _one more time_.” Lightning lit up the room again. “Where. Is. _Carlos_.”

The man stared at Cecil’s face, at the tattoos writhing on his skin, tempestuous in his rage. The lightning struck outside again, and Cecil saw the tattoo streaks on his hands light up with the bolt. The man’s eyes darted to the side, towards the western wall, and Cecil threw him down into his chair. He ripped his and the man’s ties off and tied the man’s wrists and ankles to the chair with them before moving to the western wall. He felt along it for anything, a panel, a button, and ended up discovering that the bookcase slid out of the way to reveal a door. He tested the handle - locked, of course, but he stepped back and hurled his full weight against the door, knocking it open. He stopped in the doorway, taking in the hallway he was presented with. Many cells came off of the hallway, and, as Cecil marched down the hall, he could see people he had known to be in StrexCorp custody who he had not located since the “company picnic” - John Peters (you know, the farmer), Tamika Flynn, Teddy Williams, Nazr al-Mujaheed, and Carlos’ team of scientists. Cecil went past all of them, to the very last cell, where he finally found Carlos, his body limp and folded lifelessly into the corner of his cell.

Cecil slumped to his knees, pressing against the bars of the cell. He reached in with one hand, but found his arm to be too short to reach. He wanted to shut his eyes, but was unable to do anything but stare, waiting for a breath, waiting for Carlos to move.

Nothing happened.

Cecil stood, wiped his face dry with his sleeve, and turned around, leaving the hallway, going back into the man’s office. When the man moved forward, seemingly intending to speak, Cecil just threw up a hand. A bolt of lightning surged into the room, striking the man down. He continued until he was outside again, the rain pouring down around him. One of the women from inside sprinted out of the building, grabbing Cecil by the wrist. He jerked back from her and turned to face her.

“You can’t do this!” she shouted, over the din of the storm. Cecil towered over her, tremendous in his anger, and she was small in her fear.

“You have taken from me what I value most,” Cecil said, his voice quiet but somehow entirely audible over the storm. “You’ve taken _everything_ from me.”

“That wasn’t-”

“I don’t care,” Cecil interrupted. “I don’t care what it was and what it wasn’t. I care about what it _is_.” Lightning and thunder raged together, joining the maelstrom of wind and air, and soon there was nothing left of the building, the elements having taken the headquarters apart, leaving the prison cells in the back standing alone. Cecil abandoned the women’s fried body and returned to the cells, picking each lock in turn and releasing the people trapped within. Instead of sprinting off to their homes or their families, as Cecil had suspected they might do, they stuck close to him. Once Tamika was free, she helped him to pick the locks, the two of them moving quickly together. When Cecil reached the last cell, he stopped, staring inside. Wind surged around him, ruffling his hair, and Tamika picked the lock for him. When she pushed the cell door in, it creaked once, then fell silent. Cecil stepped in.

“He never gave up,” one of Carlos’ scientists said - Rachelle, Cecil thought her name was. Her cell had been the one across from Carlos’. “I heard them, what they did to him. I saw them. He never said anything.”

“I knew he wouldn’t,” Cecil replied. He stepped closer, one slow, heavy step at a time, until he was beside Carlos. He hesitated, then folded himself onto the ground. He reached out and ran his fingertips down the side of Carlos’ face, smearing his almost-dried blood down his dark skin. He paused, not wanting to move, then broke, reaching out and pulling Carlos in. He held the limp body to his and sobbed into Carlos’ neck, losing any concept of anything outside of that cell. He gripped the back of Carlos’ torn coat, holding it tightly in his long fingers, and struggled to catch his breath. A small hand landed on his shoulder, and Cecil tilted his head back to look at Tamika Flynn, who was shivering slightly in the suddenly cold air.

“He was a good man,” Tamika said softly. “He was instrumental in our revolution, remember. He was brave.” Tamika paused. “He told me to tell you he loves you.”

“Thank you,” Cecil said, his voice hitching. He turned back to Carlos, ran his fingers through his hair, pressed their foreheads together. Teddy Williams shuffled forwards through the crowd, crouching beside Cecil and Carlos. He lifted Carlos’ wrist and pulled his sleeve back, pressing two fingers to the inside of Carlos’ wrist. He froze, frowned, and reached up, pressing those same two fingers to Carlos’ neck. Cecil pulled back and observed him, his brow creased.

“What’s going on?” Cecil asked, staring at Teddy’s face, then at his hand where it was pressed into Carlos’ neck. Teddy suddenly pushed Cecil back, maneuvering Carlos until the scientist was lying flat on his back.

“He's almost got a pulse,” Teddy exclaimed, and Cecil stared at him, momentarily paralyzed, while Teddy moved, pressing the heels of his hands into Carlos’ chest and starting compressions, fast and hard. He jerked his chin in the direction of Carlos’ head. “Lift his chin, tilt his head, pinch his nose shut, cover his mouth with yours _tightly_ , and breathe for him.”

Teddy finished his thirty compressions and leaned back while Cecil breathed for Carlos twice, Carlos’ chest lifting each time. Teddy returned to do thirty more compressions and, when he finished, motioned to Cecil, who did one more breath. His eyes darted up to meet Teddy’s.

“Do it,” Teddy instructed firmly. Cecil shut his eyes and took another deep breath for Carlos, and, this time, Carlos coughed, then jerked, his forehead colliding sharply with Cecil’s. Cecil sat back harshly, knocked back by the momentum, and found Carlos staring up at him.

“What the hell was that,” Carlos gasped, one of his hands rising to press against his chest. Cecil laughed humorlessly, then grabbed Carlos, gathering him up and holding him tightly to his chest.

“I love you so much,” Cecil breathed, pulling back to press their foreheads together. “I love you. Don’t _do_ that to me, I thought you were dead.”

“I’m not dead,” Carlos assured him. He shifted, getting his legs under him, and Cecil helped him to stand. “See? Good as new. A scientist is always okay. That’s the fourth thing that a scientist is.”

Grinning, Cecil took a small step back, looking Carlos over, keeping his hands on him to ensure that he stayed upright. He laughed, the sound watery and tearful, then surged forward, grabbing Carlos’ head in his hands and kissing him fiercely. Carlos’ hands came up to rest on his waist automatically, and Cecil laughed again into his mouth.

“We should take him in,” Teddy said, trying to calm the urgency in his voice, but Cecil heard it nonetheless.

“Did it just get warmer?” one of the scientists whispered to John Peters, who just shrugged and motioned vaguely to Cecil.

“C’mon, Carlos,” Cecil murmured, pulling one of Carlos’ arms across his shoulders. He was stunned by the abrupt draining of his anger, replaced by such magnificent relief that he felt breathless with it. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

Cecil helped Carlos out of the hallway and outside, into the warm desert sun. Carlos turned his face up to greet it, then glanced at Cecil.

“What happened to this place?” Carlos asked, looking Cecil over. “And why are you all wet?” Carlos asked. Cecil looked down at himself, as though he had forgotten all about that.

“It was raining earlier,” Cecil informed him. He helped Carlos into his car, then waved to Tamika, who was helping one of the scientists hotwire the cars still left in the parking lot. He jumped into the driver’s seat and started the car. He glanced up at the blindingly bright sun. “Everything’s alright now, though.”

Carlos slid down in his seat, pulling his legs up and shifting until he was in a more comfortable position. As Cecil started to drive away, Carlos stared out at the remnants of the building.

“Did you do that?” Carlos asked softly. Cecil glanced over, then turned back to the road.

“I did.”

Carlos was silent. A few minutes later, he turned to look at Cecil. “Thank you. I love you.”

Cecil smiled and reached over to thread his fingers through Carlos’. “I love you, too, Carlos.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have such a hardcore headcanon that Cecil can control the weather and that the weather reflects his emotions.
> 
> Cecil's car presently lives in Arizona. No pictures of it currently exist.
> 
> Want to have your music featured in the weather section? Want to contribute your talents to the show? Just want to say hi? Message me on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/) or follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon).


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